


Simple Joys

by roboticdragons



Series: Inky Reflections [3]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: And Isn't About To Learn Now, Body Horror, Disclaimer: Author Does Not Know How Projectors Work, Gen, Ink, Suicidal Thoughts, cartoons, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 06:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12248751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roboticdragons/pseuds/roboticdragons
Summary: When all you had to look at was inky dark walls, you could find joy in the simplest of things.





	Simple Joys

**Author's Note:**

> Gueeeesss Whaaatt  
> Yep, It's another Projectionist fic. I wrote this one at about 10pm before falling asleep so it might not be the best thing but ehhh. Good news though, this one doesn't end with angst! (Well, it's as non-angsty as I can make it and still have it be about good ol' projector head).

Wandering alone got boring after a while

He had nothing to do and no one to talk to (though a conversation would be difficult with no voice and no hearing), and going upstairs was too dangerous. He didn't need to sleep, and even if there was food and drink down here, with no mouth eating and drinking was out of the question. So what he did was walk, forcing his lanky legs through the ink, a silent watchman forever on guard. He rested occasionally, leaning up against the walls and just sitting, staring.

For some reason, one of the Bendy cartoons was always playing down there. Bits and pieces spun on loop from different projectors dotted around. 'Tombstone Picnic' it was called, and on particularly bad days the Projectionist would watch one scene loop over and over again, drowning out the horrors of his reality with the little grayscale demon and his wolf pal.

Alice did not like the demon. The angel didn't like a lot of things - the Projectionist included - but Bendy was one of the few things she'd actually take any action against, like destroying cutouts or ripping apart his plushies.

Which means that it was probably her doing when all the projectors (not including his head) abruptly shut off, leaving the Projectionist with only the comfort of his own blank light.

He let out a gargled whine and knelt next to one of them, trying in vain to get it working again. He searched through the suffocating fog in his mind, he'd known a lot about projectors once, right? He should know how to fix one, he had one as his head for heaven's sake!

But even with all his effort the machine remained stubbornly off. The Projectionist let out another pathetic moan and slumped to the floor, yelling nonsense at nothing. His only source of entertainment, taken from him by a demonic angel who probably forgot he was even here half the time!

His gaze shifted slowly to a box lying next to the projector. He'd never noticed the boxes half filled with ink. Inside it there was...film reel? Yes, circular disks holding little black tapes were inside the box. His lenses adjusted, trying to read the labels on the box. He...Hell in...Hell in a Hand Basket?

He stared some more. This was another Bendy cartoon, maybe even a full one instead of small scenes. He wondered...could his head actually work as a projector?

Well, only one way to find out.

Tentatively, he reached a dripping hand up to his head. It was hard to tell where to grab, as he had next to no feeling in his head, but he eventually found the circular shape of his film reel.

Just as he was about to pull it out, he paused. What if this hurt? What if his lifeforce was stored on those tapes or something? What if when his light goes out he dies?

He hesitated for a second before resuming. He'd faced pain before, and death...well, death as an outcome wouldn't be too unwelcome in this form.

He began pulling, and surprisingly he didn't feel any pain. Soon the film popped out, and he was left holding it. Wasting no time, he pulled the others out and slotted the new tapes in. The feeling was weird but not unpleasant, and soon enough a cartoon was being projected out of his head.

He'd learnt not to ask many questions about the logic of his form.

Letting out a gargling sigh, the Projectionist slid to the floor and watched. The cartoon looked like it was making noise, and the speaker on his chest was vibrating to indicate it making noise, but he couldn't hear it. Nevermind. As long as he could just stay here and watch this cartoon, he would be as happy as he could be down there.


End file.
